The Stoneweaver

Chapter 13: Truce

Skarn held up his hand to ward off the two bodyguards who advanced on him.

"We don't need to fight. Your master is gone. You're free."

But both men were slowly reaching for hidden dimsian blades. He could hear the blades sing as they swept them into the air.

"I still owe you a boon, Dom," Skarn said. "I won't hurt you."

"You die or we die," was the bodyguard's reply, as he took the lead on the narrow ledge.

Dom lunged with his dimsian sword. Skarn slapped his hands together and caught the blade. Dom's eyes widened. The blade began to ripple and waver. It flowed through Skarn's fingers and crawled up his right arm, wrapping itself around his bicep like a battle-won golden torque of some barbarian warlord.

But the dimsian wanted more of him. It continued to snake up his arm and then sunk into his shoulder. Skarn struggled to stop it from burrowing deeper.

Dom threw a fist as big as small boulder, aiming for the soft temple of Skarn's head. Skarn twisted away and caught the blow on his new dimsian shoulder. Dom's knuckles cracked, his finger bones clearly snapping. But he showed no pain.

Skarn danced back.

I won't win this fight, thought Skarn. They're trained killers. I work with stone.

So let me work with stone, he thought.

The ground erupted around Dom. Va, who had just rushed forward, was thrown back by the uplift of the rock. The stone moved easily, billowing smoothly like it had moved to this dance long before and never forgotten.

Through ancient eons it had buckled and shifted beneath the surface of the earth, spurting magma, moving continents, always moving, at a snail's pace, yes, but always moving. Now it dashed forward at the speed of lightning, quickly sealing Dom in an upright tomb.

Before Va could spring from the ground, Skarn willed the stone to rise up and shroud him as well. And just like that, the fight was over.

Skarn collapsed to the floor, panting. He was close to the drop of the Falls. Too close. He inched himself away from the edge.

He could hear the bodyguards struggle inside their stone coffins. He unleashed a sliver of his Talent to open air holes. He didn't want the men to die. In fact, he meant to free them. Eventually. Maybe after he talked some sense in them.

Unless their loyalty to Broca ran too deep.

Skarn's mouth was dry and raw. He'd done a terrible thing to Broca and Falf. Was it murder? Was it justified, to prevent the death of thousands in a bloody uprising?

He could still see the wild, terrified surprise in Falf's face when Skarn had swept him off the ledge. And the horror in Broca's open-mouth scream.

The roar of the Falls had covered the sound. He was grateful for that. The Guards on the other side of the Iron Door hadn't heard a thing, apparently. The Door remained shut.

"Hey! You still alive, stoneweaver?" came a shout in his ear.

He looked up to see Agatha peering down at him. Behind her was the rolling figure of Burlan, the blacksmith cheated by Falf. He was gazing around the chamber with wonder, his mouth slack. He moved past the stone prisons holding Dom and Va, and stood before the Iron Door.

"This leads outside?" he asked, eyes wide. Skarn couldn't hear him, but he could see the man's blubbery lips move. His face was covered in sweat. For all the bulk on him, he had managed to climb the switchbacks. Maybe he was used to the exertion from working in the heat of his forge.